Just a gigolo

It’s not home
They play lethargically

They enjoy the chaos, the non-form
things that aren’t anything
never decorative
I put it aside, it’s not “unfinished”
a meaningless word?

A photo of earthquake victims
looks like a Delacroix
The air is full, sucking
a cherry-flavored lozenge
Nearly twelve hours of nauseous sleep

Made out of pieces
and glue and grommets
It hangs from the ceiling
and brushes the floor

It speaks with a drawling accent
or a speech defect
Noisy bar scenes in Brigadoon

I reach for your hand
to hold it, not shake it
A kiss is owed, overdue